


With Pain, Love

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Comfort, Funeral, Hurt, M/M, One Shot, Unposted fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22916767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Steve debates his feelings for Billy once it's too late.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Kudos: 11





	With Pain, Love

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this before things got shitty, so sorry if it seems weird. This isn't usually a relationship I write for, but it was fun nonetheless- Enjoy!

“Our lives,” The man in the black tux concluded, preparing to slip both the notecards into his pocket and the casket into the ground. “Will be forever changed by the actions of Billy Hargrove, just as they will be changed by every other soul lost to the Star Court Massacre. A kind soul to some and an even more compassionate person to others, we cannot let his passing draw us back, but instead must allow it to propel us further.”

“Amen.” The crowd rang out in unison.

“Amen.” Steve mumbled, peering at the ground as the casket was slowly lowered deepened and deeper until a loud “chunk!” signified its eternal placement.

It was a rainer day, more so than Hawkins, Indiana usually was. The weather folks had come to blame it on some hurricane near the southern shore, Hurricane Bob or something, Steve remembered it being called. So large that it managed to reach all the way up to small Hawkins, practically drowning the entire town in both its rainwater and sorrows.

Some may suggest that perhaps the funeral be moved back a few days, or at least take place in the same place as the wake but pushing it off would only push off the emotions towards the situation. Some people hated him, in all his condescending, heartbreaking, mind-stuck-in-California ways. But others loved him, practically wishing, praying, for him to at least acknowledge their existence. 

But no matter your view of Billy Hargrove, whether be fueled by hatred or by passion, you were bound to at least loathe the night, the night that should have been filled with celebration and joy, that he fell to the ground in a final attempt for life. If only, someone was there to prevent such an occurrence, one the people of Hawkins were still unsure of what exactly it was, perhaps he’d still be alive to withstand both their wishes for his demise or the pleas for his attention.

But it didn’t matter now, not as people began to file away from the gravesite to avoid the thundering rains, perhaps grab a plate of food the Hargrove-Mayfields set up to create the mask that the event wasn’t meant to be filled with sadness. It didn’t matter, the kind words of everyone who cared to stand up and speak about how good of a neighbor he was, or how great of a friend he was. He was still gone, six feet under, never to be spoken of again.

Hawkins high school would only come to remember him as the kid who beat king Steve at basketball, Hawkins pool as the smoking lifeguard the middle-aged mothers couldn’t pry their eyes away from. But then what from there? There had been so many tragedies lately, that there likely wasn’t a day half the town wasn’t sentenced to a funeral home. To be earnest, the possibility that a handful of attendees had likely just shown up to the wrong funeral, thinking it was another one of the thirty people that had died within the last week was more than likely.

“Were you and Billy friends?” A man questioned Steve, noticing his deep stairs into the now only half-hollow hole. He was round and cheerful, seemingly unbothered the town’s poor omg rains. 

Steve considered it for a moment. Were they friends? They’d never really come to get along, but Steve had also never really given him the chance. Between the night El closed the gate and the Battle of Star Court, all Steve had ever seen was Billy’s bad sides, and nothing more. But he’d also never made the effort to see any other side, perhaps the side that enjoyed basketball or going out on dates to pseudo-fancy restaurants. Maybe, underneath all the ick and grime, there was a part of Billy that Steve would be able to like more than he had originally thought.

“You could say that,” Steve decided, kicking a bit of grass into the pit in order to avoid eye contact with the man. He really should just go back inside, the tux was rented and his father would kill him if he got as much as a speck of dirt in it. “We uh, went to high school together, health and gym.”

The man nodded, looking into the pit with a far too cheerful look as he seemingly attempted to make the best of the situation. “Yeah, he was a good kid. Sad to see him go.”

“Yeah, good kid, good kid..” Steve finished awkwardly, feeling the tension rise around the two. It eventually got so tense, that the man had done little more than chuckle a bit before waddling inside, away from the rain and Steve’s unexplainable loss for words. “Did you know him?”

The man cocked an eyebrow, changing his expression from the one who wanted nothing more than to go back inside to the one of one who was genuinely confused. Of course he knew Billy, they all did. And yet, did they really? Did they know Billy as hard to approach, or perhaps a gentleman just trying to find his way in the world? Or when they went to bed at night, and their minds began to drift into the dark corners of their minds, did Billy appear as that handful who would always act out for attention, or even the kid who was discarded by his father after his mother’s death.

“Surely, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” The man answered, peering at the funeral doors that held both shelter from the rain and a platter of cold-cut sandwiches. Nonetheless, he stood, refusing to retire back inside without Steve. “Look why don’t we discuss this inside. I think Cheryl brought a photo album put together just for the occasion, we can flip through it and point out all the good times we’ve had with him.”

But were they really good time? Steve wanted to scream out. Every time he’d seen Billy, it was always a competition, whether it be in basketball or in order to protect one of the kids. Back then, it didn’t matter to Steve what happened to Billy. Why, he could even say with confidence that he would prefer Billy dead no more than a year ago. But now? Now?

“What if there were no good times? What if you never got to experience them before it was too late?” Steve rasped, feeling his eyes begin to well up with tears. “What if there were things you never got to say?”

The man didn’t answer, but instead offered Steve a comforting clap on the back. It wasn’t out of annoyance or impatience, but instead out of sympathy. Perhaps not about the same situation, but it was clear the man also had a few unsaid things. He too wished he could have done more, and yet, he continued on.

“Then we can create them, noting all the things we never got to do during Billy’s life. How ‘bought that?”

Steve-for the first time since The Battle of Star Court, smiled.

“That sounds good, yeah.”


End file.
